Warcraft: The Long Road Home
by Jokkboy
Summary: (Set at the start of the Cataclysm) Everett Lankastur, a Gilnean born lad, has not gotten over the depature of his mother. Years have passed since she left their home in Stormwind to return back to Gilneas, and it is only now as the world rips around him in the Cataclsym does he seek out the same path, find out what happened to her. (Rated M for later content)


_Warcraft: The Long Road Home_

_Prologue_

"Keep yourself clean, look after the house and remember to feed Roxie." Said hound was currently sat in the doorway of Mumma's room, looking at us with even eyes, watching Mumma intently for what she was doing.

The words mumma spoke to me were not of the same care and content that she usually brought, laced and hung low by a clear and evident panic that I'd not seen in a long, long time. Her eyes were wide, flicking back and forth in a mad dash as her boots left soft marks on the furnished wood floor. Each second spared not packing was spent in an even deeper panic, the pits of her eyes seeming more sunken in the fleeting moments she wasn't scrambling to fit, what seemed like to me at least, the entire house into her bags. The evening sun of Stormwind poured through the windows of our shop, radiating her in the same level of beauty she always had.

Mumma was sought by many a man down here in the south, ever since we'd come to Stormwind all those years ago she couldn't go a day without some form of proposal. Even at her maturing age she had not seemingly 'sagged' as my aunty had put it (It took me a while to figure out what that meant), instead she had stayed just like always. Picturesque blonde hair, a svelte figure with powerful legs built for running. I knew she had always been an active type, but dressed as she was now it was all clearer. Gone were her dresses, her soft locks and flowing cloths that she prefered. Replacing it was a dark red shirt, straps coming up from tight trousers that puffed up around hard done boots, the kind that could turn rocks into dust if she had the right amount of fury. Instead of tanning equipment and oils coating her hands, she'd wrapped up them with cloth before covering them outright with sturdy leather gloves she'd made herself.

I was just sat there in awe of her, perched on her bed like the young lad she was, unaware of just how grave her situation was becoming

Passing me she brought her hand through my hair, slowly stroking through it in an attempt to ease my worries that didn't exist. "Aunty Yetta is going to take care of you bubs, she'll come by tomorrow and keep the shop running." she took a breath, looking out through the window at the waning, fading sun as it began to sink low beneath the high towers of Stormwind, where the king lay.

"B-But!" I protested for the first time, my confusion having forced my lips shut the entire time I was here.

With a look only a mother could give she silenced me, forcing my voice back down my throat with practised ease "Everett Lankastur, Not. Now." her words were dangerous, there was no arguing here. We looked at each other for a few seconds, feeling like hours, our teal eyes meeting before she softened. Her grimace cracked into a slow, deliberate smile that seemed so wrong. Her eyes welled as she squatted low, coming face to face with me the first time since she'd open that letter this morning.

"Gods, you look like your father so much…" she said, bring that same gloved hand up to cup my cheek. In a small moment she leaned forth, planting lips to my forehead before coming back. "I want, no, I _need _you to be safe from now on. No more chances, no more running from classes and Light above, no more sneaking out after dark!" Breathing softly so as not to come off as shakey she did her best to keep talking, but for some reason it seemed hard. Why was she so upset? What wasn't she telling me. My own small arms reached out, wrapping around her neck for the time being as I clutched her close, not ever intent on letting go "But where are you going! Mumma please!" I was getting even more upset now, I remember it clearly, it was hard not to cry. I was only Eleven mind you, small for my age and easily lead astray with emotions I was getting caught up in this like she was.

She didn't hug back at first, arms out at her sides like for the first time I'd caught her off guard. Her chest shook against me, heaving with the first clear shaky breath as soon enough she brought me closer, digging her face into the side of my head and just holding me, holding me so tight. She'd never held me like this before, like she was expecting me to vanish into nothing right in her arms.

"Please be a good lad… please be good…" she kept whispering again and again into my ear, as if a mantra that I was meant to practice like a nightly prayer. "I need you to stop being like Papa and start being a good boy." she was coming away from me now, slowly letting go before picking me up by the hips and placing me back on her bed. Straightening out her cloths and wiping away the tears that were collecting at her eyelids she stood there. The sun was going lower on her form now, and before long it would be dark out, the moon of Azeroth illuminating wherever she was going to be.

She took one final, last long look at me before opening her mouth, lips parting to speak before being cut off by a knock at her bedroom door. She didn't need to answer it, instead the door itself swung open, the hinges screeching like a crow. He stood there, the man who'd brought my mother the letter that started all this. Shrouded in darkness in the hall I couldn't make out who he was, but he knew mum, and vice versa. Any semblance of love she was just giving me was gone in an instant, replaced by a cool, collected look that stared back at him. All I could make out were the glasses he wore, tinted purple they glimmered in the light, giving him a look that was otherworldly in nature. It chilled me back then, seeing that figure stood there.

"Klaudia." his voice rumbled, piecing the silence as my mother flinched. Not giving her a chance he continued "We've not gone long, the coach is ready and waiting…" each word measured, each syllable pronounced with the utmost care. He almost sounded like Papa, that same accent. But it wasn't him, Papa never called Mumma 'Klowdya'. This man, this strange strange man wanted Mumma to go, but she didn't! So why was she?

Grimacing she spoke back "I'm coming, I'm coming, just… let me say goodbye."

It seemed for a second like he wasn't going to give her even that before he nodded, taking a large, thumping step back before receding back further into the darkness of my home. With him gone she breathed for the first time since he'd appeared, looking back down at me with some semblance of care before she squatted once more "I'm going home Ev, back to Papa. I'll be here in a couple months, just… I need to see him again, ok?"

Papa? But he stayed back up in the old city, back when he told us we needed to go! Why was she going back to him? I thought we were meant to get away from there, not go back!

I didn't get a moment to retort, she was back on her feet and with a final sharp clip her chests and bags were closed, already one being slung over her back for the long journey back north.

She turned her back to me and that's when I remember the first fear setting in, that's when I remember the first time I felt like I needed to speak. But I didn't I stayed quiet, like a good boy and sat on the bed, Roxie flicking between us both with panic in those keen hunting hound eyes.

"I…" her voice cracked as she looked back down at me, giving me one last fleeting glance before with a squeal she turned on her heel, and marched through her bedroom door and out into the dark with him.

For the next hour I'd sat there on her bed in the remnants of her once orderly room, allowing my young mind to process it. Part of me was eager to do what she said exactly, sit there in that spot, precisely where she put me. A 'couple months' wasn't too long right? She'd be back in no time and we'd be back to normal. A black whimpering form slowly entered the room, head hung low on soft paws as Roxie jumped onto the bed, coming over quickly to rest her jowls in my lap, her button nose pushing lightly against my stomach. She hated being alone, ever since we'd gotten her when I was much smaller, so much smaller than I was now.

I distinctly remember it taking me till the moon was at its peak for me to leave Mumma's room and finally just roam the house. It was so still, so quiet, like life had just been ripped away and the shadows were now clawing back at me. The dark was now a scary place, knowing that I was the only one in the house, the only one to fend off the monsters under my bed.

She was going home. But was this home? Ever since we'd come to Stormwind our shop had been home!

Where was she going? Why did she look so sad? Why was Aunty Yetta looking after me? She lived in Goldshire didn't she? So why on Azeroth was she coming here? Whenever Mumma had to go before this I just went to her and stayed with her. Back then I clearly hadn't realised just what my mother had meant, just what she was saying to me, what she couldn't but wanted to say to me. A couple months turned into several, and then into a year, and then into more than that as the days blended together. Soon enough I stopped going into her room, I stopped begging Aunty Yetta to keep an extra portion of food ready each night just in case she came home. I never proper realised just what she was doing, and what it meant to her. Home was a long way, a long and dangerous road that of course she couldn't bring me on, we'd barely gotten to Stormwind leaving it.

Going home meant going back _there._

Going back, to Gilneas.

**A fanfic that's been in my head for a good long while now, can't wait to hear the response. Leave a review and tell me what you think!**


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